Book One Harry: *loses 2 House Points* Oh My God They’re All Going To Hate Me This Is The Biggest Atrocity

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zhongli better come home

BAY CITY ROMANCE 𖥻 005 𖥻 KITTY KITTY!

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synopsis. fyodor's sudden invitation, a cat, and a couple led you to uncertain circumstances.

warnings. HORRIBLE description of the surroundings.. so sorry... i wrote this while watching one piece, you and fyodor share a nice meal!! the cats love fyodor

notes. sorry!! i was really busy these past few weeks bc of school ahh I'm here now;.. maybe after ill be busy again HAHAHA my midterms r soso nhear. but here's a fyodor centric chapter to make up for my absence AND the final ep of bsd CUZZZ IT WAS SO SICK

Getting up from your bed, you allowed yourself to stretch before shortly heading over to your closet. Your dorm was relatively simple as the university provided minimal space to encompass your belongings. From the door, your bed was squeezed into the leftmost corner of the room. a large circular black carpet was sprawled underneath your furniture, below some potted plants and your work setup, which was to the rightmost corner of the room. Beside your bed, a simple coffee table that houses a figurine you bought a while back with your friends, and the traditional alarm clock that you perceive as a treasure amongst the sea of belongings inside your dorm. The space provided was wide enough to encompass a projector and a few shelves that house your books. Averting your eyes from the protruding stack of clothes nestled beside the closet, you continue your avid search in the clutter you call your closet to prepare for the events that ought to happen later. Fyodor doesn’t mind the style you choose-- at all, even complimenting your style on several occasions, so you do not have to think twice about choosing what to wear. Settling for a simple outfit, you grabbed your previous clothing to add to the heap of fabric on the side of the room. 

It took a bit to prepare for the outing, gathering your needed items in a sling bag you thought fit best for the occasion. Still, you admired your look for a bit before swinging your bag over your shoulder and grabbing your phone to type a reply back to Fyodor hastily. Panic intruded your body as his texts registered in your mind, and bolted to the door to leave as fast as possible. However, what you didn’t consider, was Fyodor’s presence behind the door; jumping as soon as you opened it, putting your hand over your heart and clenching it while heaving slightly. “Don’t ever do that ever again, Fyodor!” You punched him lightly, relieved that it was just him. Turning back, you muttered to yourself, stopping as you heard him chuckle faintly. “What? What do you want?” You spat, although not in an offensive manner, and he smiled at you. “Nothing, you look great.” He breathed out, albeit sweetly, before adding, “You also took your sweet time, didn’t you?” 

Flustered at his words, you cleared your throat, mumbling a compliment to him that he caught. He was straightforward in his approach, clothes representing the man very well; clad in an oversized black dress shirt with a few buttons loose, partially tucked in black dress pants, sleek leather shoes that you thought were fitting for a man like him, and finally, a brown trench coat that perfected the entire outfit. You must have been staring for too long, as he smiled at you knowingly, “Are you done staring, [Name]?” He adjusted the end of his sleeves, flicking his wrists every so often. 

He caught you. That was enough to make you avert your eyes immediately, earning a soft laugh from him. His chuckle was enough to land a familiar feeling in your stomach, embarrassment, maybe, you weren’t sure. The travel to the cafe was not long, but your insatiable curiosity about nature was enough to delay your arrival for a few minutes. Of course, Fyodor held his patience, smiling softly at everything you pointed at for him to see. First were the cicadas, then the small cat wobbling around, and finally, the pretty flowers that were exceptional to the eye. His gaze on you was inconspicuous, glancing at you every so often. You weren’t oblivious to the stares he was giving you, truth be told, you returned the looks he gave you. “Hey, we’re here.” You said in realization, Fyodor releasing his hands from his pockets to open the door for you. “After you,” he whispered, following suit after you entered. The slight tinkle of the bell alerted the staff; Oh, isn’t it Ranpo for today? You thought. Almost as if he heard you, he peeked from the cash register, smile widening in realization after seeing the both of you. “Fyodor! [Name]! It’s you!” He rushed over, waving in excitement. The soft chatter of the customers halted after he shouted, gazing over at him in mild annoyance, but it didn’t matter to him. The cafe wasn’t packed as it was normally, leaving a few vacant seats for you and Fyodor to take. After peering behind the door, your eyes landed briefly on the cats wandering aimlessly to customers. A select few, namely the most eccentric ones, in your opinion, lounged around their beds, scratching and nipping at their toys. Fyodor called out to you, which made you flicker your eyes to him in recognition. “I paid for your admission, so don’t worry about paying me back.” Said Fyodor, reassuring you. Ranpo was heard snickering from behind him, “Stop sounding like a gentleman, dumbass Fyo,” He joked, “I lowered the admission prices for you both. The total isn’t even worth the price of one undiscounted admission.” He revealed, making Fyodor deadpan. Fyodor turned to you, apologetic eyes meeting yours, as you walked over to him to pat his shoulder. Fyodor was uncharacteristically sweet to your group, paying for your meals every so often. The origins of his copious amounts of money were left lingering in your head, but you don’t bring the question up to him. “You didn’t tell me,” He reasoned, his voice enlaced with a hint of embarrassment, fingers glazing his credit card before handing it over to Ranpo, who accepted it gleefully. “Okay, since you’re so adamant about paying on their behalf!” He swiped the card, tapping on the monitor before stating, “You’re not getting that discount anymore!” Cheekily, he winked at both of you, making you wave your hands in protest at him, while Fyodor hummed in agreement. “Sure.” He responded curtly, which made you freeze, turning to him slowly. “Hey, you’re funny.” 

“Oh, really? You’re so kind! You’re paying for the entire menu too, Fyo!” 

You weren’t sure how you got into your position now. You poked your fork desultorily at your food, eyes flickering from Fyodor to the cats meowing at your feet. A smile was present on Fyodor’s face, sighing in contentment at the taste of the tea he ordered. A black cat was perched on his lap, tail moving as he leaned into Fyodor’s touch. “So, why did you bring me here?” You let the question slip before you could notice, genuinely curious about his motives. He gazed at you upon hearing that question, pausing his actions to face you. “Well, I just wanted to hang out with someone here,” he pursed his lips, locking his eyes with yours, and you found it hard to tear your gaze away from him. “I wanted to ask you and Sigma originally, but since she couldn’t go, I opted to ask you instead.” Admittedly, you looked away, feeling abashed, and focused on the cat rubbing itself on your leg. He was cute, in a way, a white cat with a scar on its left eye and gentle paws marked in black. Picking him up, you cooed, the cat meowing in return. “His name is Kolya, Fyo!” You shoved the cat in his face, making him scrunch his face in surprise as he took the cat from you. At this, the cat in his lap jumped off, which prompted Fyodor to sigh lightly, taking the cat for himself. Oh, Kolya. He thought, eyes blinking at the cat, to which the latter did the same, squinting his eyes in recognition. He looks exactly like Nikolai. He recalled his friend motioning towards a cat that looked exactly like him, but he paid no mind to his friend, but now that he studied his features, it looked exactly like him-- save for the humanistic characteristics and his signature white hair. Looking at it now, he held the cat closer to his face, before feeling the cat’s paws atop his nose. “Oh, he’s cute!” You leaned to the side to get a closer look at Fyodor and the cat; however, the former seemed to be frozen in place. Fyodor sighs before letting out an amused chuckle, gently placing the cat down beside him. “Yeah, it really is cute.”

A few hours passed-- although it felt like mere minutes to you and Fyodor, and both of you decided it was best to leave. Arranging the plates on your table, you carefully stood up; the cats walked past you to give you way. Muttering an apology to them, you took in the soft scenery the cafe provided, breathing out and walking towards the door. Fyodor greeted you and opened the door, thanking him softly as you walked out. He left you to wander outside as he settled the bill with Ranpo, which resulted in further delay; not that you minded, though, it allowed you to leave the cafe to observe the evening sky outside. 

The sky painted itself in gradient hues of orange and blue, fading into unique colors that marveled in the distance. It was peaceful, with the sound of cicadas chirping mixing with the sound of the wind, you found tranquility in this atmosphere. You breathed out, gaping at the clouds that blended with the sky’s colors. This wasn’t new to you, and once you heard the bell ring, you looked over the horizon to meet Fyodor’s eyes, and in response, blinked at the sudden eye contact. “Hi,” He said, and you waved at him enthusiastically. “Hi, Fyo!” You replied, making him nod; “I’m going to talk with Ranpo for a minute, if that’s okay.” He scanned your eyes in hopes of finding approval and smiled softly once he did. “Of course, Fyo! I can wait.” Smiling sincerely, you set your attention to the couple leaving the cafe, but once they opened the door, a certain white cat came rushing out. It seemed that the clamor alerted Ranpo from behind the cash register, and he shot up, before slamming his hand on the table to steady himself to properly observe the situation. “Kolya?!” He yelled, and the cat stared at him briefly before speeding out of the main door. You forgot to close it, so you stared at Ranpo in an apologetic manner, but he couldn’t quite notice it as he bolted for the entrance. 

“[Name], help me catch him!” He pointed at the cat, and Fyodor simply stared at the commotion. You sighed in exasperation, “I get to keep this cat, alright?!” And so, you ran for the cat with newfound determination-- it would be your new pet if you caught it, after all! The thought made you giggle silently, and you could slightly hear Ranpo fuming as he spat warnings towards the couple that allowed Kolya to get away. Yelling out countless apologies to the passersby that you ran past, your eyes locked on the cat that was slipping from your sight. After a bit of running, you found (supposedly) your cat in the hands of another. You halted your movements, your feet skidding to a stop in front of a foreign man. He, however, didn’t pay any attention to you, but to your cat. Nevertheless, once you caught your breath, he acknowledged your presence. “Oh, you were looking for him?” His voice had a playful lilt to it, which matched his appearance. His eyes were what captivated you most, heterochromia eyes with the shade of bluish grey and emerald boring right back at your own; his abnormally long braided white hair that coincidentally matched the fur of the cat he held. Your eyes trailed down toward his outfit, which consisted of a pair of oversized jeans and an equally oversized bomber jacket, zipped until his chest which revealed a bit of the shirt he was wearing. Kolya’s meow broke your train of thought, and the stranger giggled at this. 

You felt as if you had met this man before, but from where, you were clueless. “Did Kolya escape from the cafe again?” Cuddling up to the cat, he addressed his statement in a manner that made you think it was directed at Kolya instead of you. Crossing your arms, you let out an unamused sigh, which made the man’s attention drift towards you in response. “Ah, hi!” He called out to you, “Sorry, sorry! This cat’s a bit of a troublemaker,” He admitted, flustered, and looked at you apologetically. “Have I seen you before?” You questioned, and he blinked, before laughing. “Maybe! I mean,” He pets the cat in his hands, “Well, before anything, what’s your name?” Confused at the man’s sudden switch in tone, you answered him hesitantly, “It’s… [Name]...?” And at that, his eyes widened in realization, mumbling utterances to himself that you couldn’t quite hear. Okay, this guy was weird, sure, but he saved you the trouble of running after Kolya any farther than you originally had to. “Alright! Hi! I’m Nikolai, I hope that rings a bell, [Name]!” No honorifics, you noted-- but nodded at him regardless. You reflected back on his statement, however, despite racking your brain for anything that would relate to him, there was nothing that came to mind, so you settled for a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Nikolai.” Your eyes darted to him and to the cat, and you realized how similar they looked. “See anything?” He brought the cat up to his face, and it meowed in return. “Holy shit! It looks exactly like you!” He chuckled loudly at your words, proud that you finally got the idea. “You know, when I first came to the cafe, I fell in love with this little guy!” He exclaimed, although the cat’s ceaseless meowing drowned out his statement. “I was with Fyo--” He shut his mouth, interrupting himself, “I was with a friend when I first saw him.” Embarrassed, he looked over to you, smiling at your delighted look. You tilted your head, feeling panic invade your body. You didn’t know why, but the answer came to you incredibly quickly. 

Oh shit, Fyodor! “It was great meeting you, Nikolai, but I really have to go.” You motioned to the cat, and he took the hint to give it to you. Disappointment washed over his features, and despite being in a hurry, you recognized the look on his face. You waved to him hurriedly before setting off, the cat in your hands wiggling at your hold. Gathering the contacts of Nikolai was out of the question, as you had to make it back to Fyodor quickly, glancing at the horizon, you figured that the sun setting was an indicator of how late it was. Nikolai was not too bad-- although a bit eccentric in his approach, you just thought it was in his nature to act as he did. He was conventionally attractive, you can admit, his graceful features nestled in your head as he talked to you. His gaze towards you was ever so soft, a gleam of appreciation present in his eyes as he talked to you; and as his eyes lingered in your head, all the while, you figured that meeting new people had never been so bad-- or maybe he was just simply an exception. You chuckled on the way back, at the interaction you had with the unique individual determining the course of events that presented itself in front of you. The narrative was writing itself, and while you cannot make out with certainty any possible occurrences from now on, you had an inkling that you were to embrace change.

Nikolai, you believe you would remember that name for a long time. 

trivia:

niko thought you were sooo interesting!! he just doesn't know why.

he went to the cafe straight after meeting you, but was surprised when he couldn't see kolya in sight

he knew you were fyodor's friend since fyodor kept talking about you and your friend group (in a good light, obviously!)

fyodor understood you, don't worry, he isn't mad. he can never be mad at you

while fyodor may say these things so carelessly, he does it with no romantic intentions. you are most aware of this fact, and he is thankful for that.

you were so unsure if fyodor really paid for the entire menu. but with ranpo's devilish smile, you knew it was a joke.

yes, you just realized that niko was the man in your comments the previous chapter

so seeing him there again made you smile a bit, he was eccentric, but he was a good person!

you knew he'd make a good friend!

dazai asked fyodor about what happened, and when he told him about you and niko meeting, he rushed to the latter to demand answers.

tg: @iruc @celestair

2023 © kachuuyaa. do not steal or claim my work as your own.

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER TEN: NEVER WOUND WHAT YOU CAN'T KILL

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SUMMARY ↳ Man, what kind of asshole robs a cafe? There's that familiar poking feeling in your gums. Your body leaps over the counter, tackling the man to the floor. Your fangs fully unsheathe and you make sure that the struggle blocks what you're doing from view. You yank his arm to the side, grabbing the gun out of hand as your teeth sink into his wrist. Your venom pumps into his body. The robber yelps at the pain, before his body gradually stops struggling, slumping. Paralyzing venom, Miguel had deduced, like his.  pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: gunshot wounds, mentions of being paralyzed (its not permanent) wc: 4.1k

While all your other classmates are nervous, you sit and hum to yourself as the final preparations commence. The back of the stage is dimly lit. The large red curtain hides you from the view of the audience. Your ballet shoes are tied snugly, the satin ribbons crisscrossing your ankles in perfect symmetry. You glance around at your fellow dancers, some of them stretching, others whispering last-minute encouragements to each other.

“Well, you seem fine,” says Victoria, coming to your side.

You smile at Victoria, her presence a welcome comfort in the dimly lit backstage area. She looks like the pinnacle of elegance, with her off shoulder ruffles and her sparkly romantic tutu. Her hair is pinned up with flowers. “I don’t really get nervous. Not for this, at least,” you say.

Victoria laughs softly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of excitement and nerves. "I wish I had your calm. Any tips for a nervous wreck?"

You think for a moment, then reply, "Just focus on the music and the movements. Everything else will fall into place."

She nods thoughtfully. "I'll try that. Thanks."

The stage manager's voice breaks through the hushed whispers, calling everyone to their positions. Victoria gives you a quick nod before heading to her spot. You take one last look around, feeling the energy and anticipation building among your fellow dancers.

As you step into your place, the familiar strains of the opening music begin to play. The curtain starts to rise, and the bright stage lights flood the stage, momentarily blinding you. You blink and adjust, finding your mark on the floor.

With a final deep breath, you lift your arms gracefully, your body responding to the music with practiced ease. The audience is out there, but your focus is on the dance, each movement a tribute to the countless hours of preparation and passion that brought you to this moment.

It’s been very long since you participated in a proper performance. You stopped taking classes shortly after you got bit. Occasionally you threw on a youtube video and practiced in your room, just to make sure you still had it. The stage lights feel different now, more intense, more real, yet there’s a comfort in the familiarity of the movements.

As you move into the first steps of the routine, you feel the warmth of the spotlight on your face. The audience fades into the background, and all that exists is the dance. You and Victoria move in perfect harmony, the countless hours of practice evident in your synchronized movements. Your hands find her waist, lifting her into the air with practiced ease. As you lift Victoria into the air, her form light and graceful, the audience gasps in awe. The spotlight glimmers off her sparkly tutu, casting shimmering reflections across the stage. The energy of your fellow dancers surrounds you, creating a powerful synergy that fills the stage.

With each leap, you feel like you’re flying, the exhilaration of the performance pushing you to new heights. Victoria matches your intensity, her face a picture of concentration and grace. The audience is captivated, their eyes following your every move, their applause growing louder with each passing moment.

As the final notes of the music play, you and Victoria come together for the concluding pose. You lift her once more, her body arching gracefully in the air before you set her down gently. You both hold the final position, breathing heavily but smiling, the audience’s applause roaring in your ears.

Your eyes trace the audience as you're held in your final pose. You take in the awed faces of the crowd, their clapping hands and their cheers. Then, you finally see it.

Damian and Jon, sitting among the crowd. Damian you get, but damn, when did you tell Jon about the show? Did Damian tell him? Damian sits comfortably in his chair, eyes half lidded with his hand over his mouth. Jon is leaning forward, eyes wide and sparkling, mouth agape. You chuckle.

With a final bow, the curtain falls, shadowing you and your fellow dancers. Applause follows you as you’re ushered backstage. Your fellow dancers surround you, their faces flushed with joy and accomplishment.

Victoria rushes over, grinning widely. “We did it!” she squeals, gripping your arms.

You laugh. “Thanks to you!”

The backstage is a flurry of activity, dancers congratulating each other, stagehands bustling about, and the stage manager giving everyone a thumbs-up. You take a moment to catch your breath, leaning against the wall.

Victoria comes to lean next to you. “I saw your friends in the crowd,” she says. “Damian and the blue-eyed boy.”

You nod. “Yeah, I didn’t know they were gonna come.”

She raises a brow, making you furrow yours. “What?” you question. She hums and shakes her head. Fine, she can keep her secrets. 

You glance towards the side entrance where you know Damian and Jon will be waiting. The thought of their presence in the audience fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Damian's cool composure and Jon's wide-eyed enthusiasm are a perfect contrast, and you can't help but smile at the thought of them sitting there, watching you perform.

The bustle backstage starts to calm down as everyone begins to change out of their costumes and pack up their things. You take a moment to stretch and unwind, the adrenaline from the performance still coursing through your veins.

When you finally step out into the lobby, Damian and Jon are waiting for you. Damian is leaning casually against the wall, his usual smirk in place, while Jon is practically bouncing on his heels, excitement radiating from him.

"That was incredible!" Jon exclaims, rushing over to hug you. "I had no idea you were so talented!"

“ I had no idea you were coming!” you explain, arms coming up to wrap around him.

“Of course I had to come,” he leans back and looks at you as if you just insulted his mother. “Damian said he’d gut me if I didn’t, anyway.”

You raise a brow, looking at Damian smugly. Surprisingly, he doesn’t shy away. He steps forward, holding your gaze with twinkling eyes. “You were impressive.” It isn’t much, but it means a lot coming from him. Even more so he said it to your face.

"Thanks, Damian," you say, feeling your face warm. "I'm really glad you both came."

Jon's enthusiasm is infectious, and he starts animatedly recounting his favorite parts of the performance, his eyes wide with admiration. Damian listens with a small smile, occasionally adding his own observations. Jon gasps suddenly, an idea having come to him.

“Let’s go get dinner!” he suggests, his excitement palpable. You and Damian share a look before you nod, making Damian nod.

“First, I have to say go say bye to everyone, take pictures, you know how it is,” you say. They nod and hold your stuff as you scurry back to everyone else. Hugs are shared and pictures are taken. You make sure to get in a couple of selfies with Victoria. Hurrying back to your boys, you find them waiting by the exit.

Cold air encompasses your trio. Damian and Jon seem unfazed, their excitement warming them against the chill. You start walking down the street, the city lights casting a warm glow on the pavement.

“So, where to?” you ask, turning to Damian.

“You ask me?”

“Well, you’re paying aren’t you?” you grin. “So you should choose.”

Jon chuckles as Damian scoffs, but doesn’t refute. 

“Why not go to Batburger?” Jon asks, smirking at Damian over your shoulder. You laugh as a look of offense crawls onto Damian’s face. “It’s a classic.”

Damian sighs dramatically, then his expression shifts to a more serious one. “I was thinking we could try that new Italian place that just opened up downtown. I hear they have an excellent menu."

Jon shrugs, a mischievous glint still in his eye. "Fine, but next time, it's Batburger."

"Deal," you laugh.

You’re driven to the restaurant, courtesy of Alfred. The energy from the performance still buzzes inside you, and the presence of your friends makes the night feel even more special. As you approach the restaurant, you can see the warm glow of the lights inside, casting a cozy ambiance. The hostess greets you with a smile and leads you to a table near the window, where you can watch the bustling city outside.

Settling into your seats, you glance around at the elegant decor. The restaurant is filled with soft music and the murmur of conversation, creating a relaxing atmosphere. The menu is impressive, filled with a variety of mouth-watering dishes.

“Really fancy,” you comment. “I feel out of place.” Jon nods in agreement, while Damian scoffs.

“Please, this is subpar.” You and Jon share a fond look over Damian’s antics.

As you peruse the menu, Jon begins to gush about the performance again. "Seriously, you were amazing! I can't believe you kept this talent hidden from us."

You laugh, feeling a bit shy from all the praise. "It wasn't really hidden. I just haven't performed in a while."

Damian looks at you thoughtfully. "It's a shame. You should do it more often."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you smile, feeling a warm glow inside. "Maybe I will."

The waiter arrives, and you all place your orders. The conversation flows easily as you wait for your food, the excitement of the evening keeping the energy high. 

“What got you into ballet?” asks Jon.

You can’t say that Aunt May and Uncle Ben enrolled you as a distraction from your parent’s death and to provide an outlet for your grief. “My dad enrolled me in some classes when I was a kid. He saw me getting… restless and said it was a good outlet for me. After that I also did a bunch of stuff on the side, like gymnastics and sports.”

Jon nods, his eyes wide with interest. "That makes sense. You really looked like you were born to dance."

Damian adds, "It's clear you have a natural talent. And you put in the work. That's a powerful combination." You smile, appreciating their words.

Then, Jon surprises you by saying, “I really like your smile.”

You blink, caught off guard by his bluntness. Sparing a look at Damian, you see that he’s staring at Jon. “Thank you,” you say, for lack of anything better to say.

Jon leans forward, his eyes earnest. "No, really. It's infectious. Every time you smile, it lights up the room."

You feel your cheeks warm, surprised yet flattered by Jon's compliment. Damian clears his throat, a subtle hint of amusement in his expression. "Jon's right," he says, his tone casual yet sincere. "Your smile is... captivating." Geez, where is all this coming from?

You chuckle softly, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth at their compliments. "Thanks, both of you. I appreciate that."

Jon grins broadly, clearly pleased with himself for flustering you. "It's true! You should smile more often."

The conversation shifts as your food arrives, and you all dig into your meals, enjoying the delicious flavors and the lively banter. The restaurant buzzes with activity around you, but your table feels like its own little bubble of warmth. Jon tries to recreate one of your dance moves from his seat, almost knocking over his drink, which sends you into a fit of laughter.

Dinner passes, and you all part ways as you head home. You smile at the picture you took at the diner, turning off your phone and changing into your suit for patrol.

On the last Friday before winter break, you and Damian stand before the class, ready to deliver your "Hot Takes" presentation. The room buzzes with anticipation as Ms. Varley introduces you both, her gaze sharp and expectant.

You take a deep breath, feeling Damian's steady presence beside you. Together, you launch into a compelling exploration of Batman's motivations, ethics, and impact on Gotham City. You start by outlining Batman's complex actions. Damian chimes in seamlessly, adding insights into Batman's methods and how they reflect a darker, more pragmatic view of crime-fighting.

The class listens intently, some nodding in agreement while others raise thoughtful questions. You and Damian feed off each other's energy, seamlessly transitioning between points and elaborating on each other's ideas. Your presentation is well-received, eliciting nods of approval and engaged murmurs from your classmates. As you near the conclusion, Damian takes the lead in summarizing your arguments, weaving together the threads of your discussion into a cohesive whole.

By the end of your presentation, you feel a sense of accomplishment wash over you. As you pack up your things and prepare to leave for winter break, Ms. Varley offers a nod of approval, clearly impressed by your thorough analysis and presentation skills. You and Damian exchange a satisfied glance, a silent acknowledgment of a job well done. The two of you walk out, meeting the snow falling on your cheeks outside.

"Well done," Damian says, his voice low but genuine. "You held your ground well."

"Thanks," you reply, feeling a surge of pride at his compliment. "You were great too.”

Damian nods, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. "It's a topic I'm familiar with."

"So, any big plans for winter break?" you ask as you walk through the snow-dusted grounds.

Damian shrugs. “I plan to refine my art skills. Nothing much.”

“Sounds like you,” you hum. “Well, I’ll be working. Unless, of course…” you pause, looking at Damian, “...you want to marry me and be my rich husband?”

Damian stops in his tracks, his brow furrowing slightly as he looks at you, processing your playful remark. His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, hinting at amusement. “Are you proposing?”

You lock your hands behind you back, rocking on your feet cheekily. “And if I am?”

Damian's expression shifts, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he considers your playful challenge. His gaze meets yours, intense and calculating as always, yet softened by a glimmer of something warmer beneath the surface.

"Well," he begins, his voice steady, "marriage is a serious commitment, not to be taken lightly."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Of course, Damian. I'm sure you've thought deeply about it."

His lips twitch again, a bit more pronounced this time. "Indeed. And what would I gain from such a union?"

You shrug nonchalantly, trying to maintain your composure despite the hint of nerves creeping in. "Well, my sparkling wit, unparalleled charm, and the pleasure of my company, obviously."

Damian lets out a quiet chuckle, the sound surprising yet strangely pleasing to your ears. "And in return?"

You pause for a moment, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in your eye. "Well your money is all I care about, but…” your finger traces his jaw, feeling it twitch under your touch, “...I guess your looks are a nice bonus.”

Damian's eyebrow quirks up at your teasing response, a mix of amusement and something else flickering in his eyes. His gaze holds yours, a silent challenge echoing in the air between you. You feel a thrill of exhilaration mingled with nerves, unsure of where this playful banter might lead.

"You certainly have a way with words," he finally says, his voice low and measured. "But I'm afraid flattery alone won't sway me."

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. "Oh? What will then?"

He steps closer, his presence commanding and strangely inviting. "Actions speak louder than words," he murmurs, his breath brushing against your cheek.

"I believe in thorough consideration," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But some decisions are best made in the moment."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to maintain a playful tone despite the flutter in your chest. "And what kind of action are you looking for?"

Damian's eyes never leave yours, his pupils dilating slightly as he takes another step closer. "Perhaps a demonstration of your commitment," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You breathe, smile twitching as you look down. Huffing a laugh out, you pat his cheek. “You’re good, Dami.”

His brow twitches, looking at you as you distance yourself. You spare him a glance over your shoulder. “No need to give me a ride, It’ll do me good to stretch my legs.”

As you walk through the snow-covered grounds, you can't help but think about Damian's words. "Actions speak louder than words." What did he mean by that? Was he hinting at something more?

You shake your head, chuckling to yourself. You're getting ahead of yourself. It was just a playful conversation, nothing more. You should remember your task.

Gar greets you as you step into the cafe. He’s been doing a lot better. He’s got a new apartment and picked up a second job. Things seem to be looking up for him. Carrie says the cafe always looks good in the winter. You think any cafe looks better in the winter, really. Something about the snow gives the place a cozy, aesthetic vibe.

The cafe looks busy today. Several people are stretched across the area, each of them in their own world. You make your way to the back, seeing Sam organizing some shelves.

“How’d it go?” they grunt, balancing some trays.

You help steady their load. “Good.”

“Just good?”

“Yeah. I think the teacher was impressed,” you say.

“I know that’s right,” they grin, poking your forehead. “You’re the smarted person I know.”

You shrug modestly. “Damian helped.” Sam scoffs, but says nothing further.

As the afternoon rolls on, the cafe fills with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods. You move through your tasks, enjoying the rhythm of work. The holiday season has brought a cheerful energy to the place, with twinkling lights and festive decorations adding to the cozy atmosphere.

During a brief lull in customers, you take a moment to sip on a hot chocolate, savoring the warmth. A man walks in, shrouded in a thick jacket. His head is down, his face covered by his hoodie and cap.

danger

Your fingers tense. “Sam? Can you go get my phone from the back? I think I left it on one of the shelves.” Carrie and Gar are back there too. As long as you're the only one the guy will threaten, it’s fine. Sam nods and goes to the back without questions. Good.

You put on your best smile as the guy approaches the counter. “Hello, sir. How can I–”

You don’t even get a chance to finish your greeting before the guy raises his arm, gun in hand, and shoots two bullets at the ceiling.

The sound of the gunshots reverberates through the cafe, sending a jolt of fear through the air. The customers scream and duck under tables, seeking cover. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you keep your composure, knowing you need to stay calm and think clearly.

The man's face remains obscured by his hoodie and cap, but you can see the glint of determination in his eyes. His gun is pointed at you now, and you raise your hands slowly, trying to appear non-threatening.

"Empty the register," he demands, his voice rough and desperate.

“A cafe, sir? I’m sure you’ll find a better score somewhere else?” you ease.

“I’ve alerted the authorities of the situation. I’ve also sent an anonymous tip to the Batcomputer.” Thank you, Karen.

The man's grip on the gun tightens, and his eyes narrow as he registers your calm demeanor. "Just do it. I don't have time for this."

You nod slowly, moving towards the register with deliberate, unhurried steps. "Alright, I'm opening it now," you say, keeping your tone even and composed. The register dings as it opens, and you start pulling out the bills, placing them on the counter.

As you work, you discreetly glance around, assessing the situation. The customers are still hiding, some peeking out cautiously. You catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye. Sam, Gar, and Carrie are peeking from the back, their eyes wide with fear and concern (except for Gar, he just looks pissed). You subtly shake your head, signaling them to stay hidden and safe.

“Nobody better fucking move or call anybody!” the robber yells, whipping his gun around. People whimper and cower, shaking.

You move methodically, placing the bills on the counter one by one, keeping the robber's attention focused on you. Your mind races, calculating the distance between you and him, and the timing required to make your move.

"Please, just stay calm," you say, your voice steady despite the tension in the air. "I'm almost done."

As you place the last bill on the counter, you see an opportunity. The robber's attention shifts momentarily to the pile of cash, his grip on the gun loosening slightly.

With a swift, practiced motion, you lunge forward, aiming to disarm him. The robber reacts quickly, pulling the trigger just as you reach him.

 gun gungungun MOVE

 The gunshot echoes in the confined space, and you feel a sharp, searing pain in your side.

You hiss in pain. FUCK. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten seriously hurt. Your senses couldn’t move you out of the way, you were too close. Your senses are going haywire, they aren’t sure what to do at the moment. There's that familiar poking feeling in your gums. Your body leaps over the counter, tackling the man to the floor. Your fangs fully unsheath and you make sure that the struggle blocks what you're doing from view.

You yank his arm to the side, grabbing the gun out of hand as your teeth sink into his wrist. Your venom pumps into his body. The robber yelps at the pain, before his body gradually stops struggling, slumping.

Paralyzing venom, Miguel had deduced, like his. 

You push him away, standing up, wiping away the blood and hot pink liquid around your mouth. You clutch your side where the bullet hit. The pain is intense, but you force yourself to stay focused. The robber lies on the floor, paralyzed and unable to move (not permanently, of course).

You take deep breaths, trying to slow down your heart in order to slow down the blood. The cafe is in chaos, with customers wailing and crying. You look down at the gun in your hands, unloading it and throwing the mag somewhere. Sam, Garrett, and Carrie rush out from the back, their faces filled with shock.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Sam asks, rushing to your side.

“Shit, kid. That was stupid,” scolds Garrent, putting pressure on the wound. Carrie quickly takes charge, calling the police and trying to calm down the customers. There’s a sudden rush of wind, sending napkins flying and causing yelps from customers.

Jon, no, Superboy is in the entryway of the cafe. He’s hovering slightly, cape billowing in the wind. His eyes are wide, looking straight at you. There’s an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Is that… Robin? Robin, hanging off of Superboy's shoulder. Wait, no, he’s hopped off of him, now he’s walking… oh, he’s right in front of you.

“I’ll take it from here.” His voice leaves no room for argument. He crowds you into his arms, leaning you against him. His hand presses into your wound, eliciting a grunt from you. He shushes you softly.

Police cars skirt to a stop outside. Officers rush inside, quickly getting the robber in cuffs. The hustle and bustle distract you from the pain momentarily. Superboy rushes over to you two.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” he mutters, hands finding your face.

“No,” you and Robin say at the same time. You blink at him.

“What?” Superboy growled.

“I don’t trust them to deal with this,” is all Robin says. The reason you didn’t want to go to a hospital was because one, you have no type of insurance whatsoever and two, your physiology is not exactly normal. Ah shit, your vision is getting spotty.

You take a deep breath, trying to stay focused despite the pain and the spotty vision. "I can handle it," you say, trying to sound confident.

“No, you can’t,” scold Robin and Superboy in sync. Superboy scoops you up in his arms, looking at Robin. “Your choice,” he says.

Robin looks at you, snuggled in Superboy's arms. You're blinking slowly, vision getting blurry. He looks down at gloves, covered with your blood. It’s quiet while he thinks, the loud chatter of the scene fading away. Then, he nods.

“The cave.”

It’s the last thing you hear before your vision fades completely.

notes: man what is it with my readers and getting shot by an asshole robbing a cafe of all places LOL

Pissing Off the Mikaelson Bros

Okay, but like imagine you’re a witch and you piss off the Mikaelson brothers (you made their sunlight rings not work because you felt like it and you’re a bitch) and none of them are invited into your house and it’s the middle of the night when they’re finally able to get to your house without catching fire on the way.

So like Klaus is pissed because he gets mad at everything, so is Kol. Elijah’s just ticked off because he wanted to go see Hayley but you made it nearly impossible. So it’s the middle of the night and you’re fast asleep in your room and since they can’t get in because they haven’t been invited, they’re standing outside you’re bedroom window throwing rocks at the glass. So when you don’t answer, they start to get even angrier because they think you’re ignoring them, so Klaus starts threatening to set your house on fire, but there’s still no response.

Then Klaus is like, “I’m serious (y/n), we will set you’re house on fire and since we’re not invited in, we can’t save you.” So like you still don’t answer and Klaus is like beyond angry because he’s mad that his scary threat didn’t get a reaction out of you.

So then after a while, Elijah is like, “I think she’s asleep.”

And Klaus goes, “She’s not asleep, we’ve been making a raucous.”

And Elijah says, “Listen.”

And all three of them become quiet and sure enough, you’re heartbeat and breathing are slow and steady.

“That’s impossible,” Kol says. “Nik has been loud enough to wake up the whole city.”

“(Y/N)!!!!!!!” Klaus shouts and all three of them are silent listening for any indication that you’re awake but they get none.

So then they just start having a competition on who can wake you up. Like Klaus gets a bullhorn and keeps shouting and Elijah gets an ambulance to come down the street and Kol even sets off some fireworks, but you never wake up. The whole street however, does.

★Stitched ★

Idia Shroud x Reader | ~5k words

Warnings: none really??? Idia is self deprecating as usual. Allusions to book 6 lore but no spoilers. I leaned into Idia’s weird hybrid inferiority/superiority complex (he’s frustrating and annoying but that’s my wife). I wrote way more than I intended lmao.

Info: GN Reader with no physical descriptions. slowish burn, potential to be friends to lovers? No resolution in the end, a smattering of angst bc Idia is… well he’s himself. Heavily based on his vignettes, Home Screen idles, etc etc (this is for the detail oriented baddies and by that I mean I have capital A Autism and I’ve been fixated on him for months). I have been very into the idea of Idia making cosplays and props since becoming obsessed w his Halloween card, so uh. Yeah! There’s no mention of what the reader’s costume is, so it can be whoever you want! Only mentions that it’s from a manga so go wild! <3

——————————————————————————

When Ortho Shroud suggested that you commission his brother to build a prop for your Halloween costume, you’d agreed enthusiastically. You’d even said something about how sure you were that it would look great- a compliment he’d pass on to his reclusive sibling. After all, Ortho was living(?) proof of Idia’s handiwork, so making a prop would be playing on easy mode. Ortho did neglect to mention that his brother was not taking commissions (and frankly never would if Idia had it his way), but it wouldn’t be that big of an issue, right?

Wrong. The second Idia’s phone pinged with a message from an unknown number, from your unknown number, he was convinced he was going to die.

You were lucky you’d stated your case all in one message- if you’d started with just a greeting and expected small talk he would’ve just preemptively blocked you to avoid your little side quest. Besides, who messaged someone so early in the morning? Another look at his phone through bleary eyes would show that it was actually 6 pm, but nonetheless! He’d just woken up, so it was still far too early for that kind of shameless extrovert behavior. At least your message was pretty concise; Ortho had passed along his number because you wanted to commission him, and you’d offer payment in exchange. As clear as that was, there was still a lot to unpack. Ortho’s intentions to find friends for him were clearly at play here, which would’ve ground his gears more if it all wasn’t so well meaning. But giving someone his number for a cosplay commission? That felt a little excessive! What kind of meet-cute scenario was this? And how on earth did you plan to pay for a custom piece anyway? Not that he would actually make it, of course, but hypothetically. He’d heard through the grapevine (read: Azul’s chattering during board game club meetings) that you had a part time gig at Monstro Lounge, but surely you wouldn’t be spending your limited in-game currency on a cosplay prop. While he thought it would be a stupid decision, he had to respect your dedication.

Hypothetically, of course.

Despite any reluctant interest he had in knowing what costume you were putting together, there was no way he’d actually agree to a commission. Besides, it was probably a lame request anyway. And who cares if you’d probably (definitely) look great in your costume? Certainly not Idia, no sir. And he totally didn’t think about how happy you’d be if he were to accept your commission (which he’d never do, of course), or how you’d look holding a piece of his unquestionably perfect work. No, he wouldn’t lie awake thinking about any of that at all. Thus he decided to ignore your text indefinitely- it’s not like he had his read receipts on or anything. He’d just kick back, work on his own nearly finished costume, and maybe even send a halfhearted “soz, just saw this :/” a day or two before Halloween night. No unnecessary and draining social interactions, and you wouldn’t have to be inevitably disappointed by… well, by him. His craftsmanship was S tier without a doubt, but he had a charisma stat of 4 at most. So he’d just let the message sit there. That would be easier for everyone involved.

Well, that was the plan. But as it turned out, Ortho would have none of it. When he’d caught wind that Idia hadn’t bothered to answer your message a whole day later, he’d immediately bombarded his big brother with endless arguments for your case. It was the usual string of points- that Idia would be happier if he had irl friends (as if), that his general quality of life would improve if he had some positive social interaction (no way!), and so on. At least he was sure Ortho’s logic processors were working as irritatingly well as ever, though Idia found his points far too idealistic. But logos wasn’t the way to go when talking Idia into something he had no interest in doing- it would have to be pathos all the way baby, appealing to what really made him tick. Unfortunately for him, Ortho knew that too.

“I need you to make a friend before you graduate,” he said abruptly, arms crossed like he was prepared for a one shot k.o. “Just one. I’m sorry I gave them your number without permission, but I really think this could be fun. You make the coolest stuff ever, and it’s your favorite holiday, so I thought it was a good opportunity for you to talk to someone.” He was silent for only a moment, as if deciding whether or not to deliver the final blow. “I just need to know my big brother will be okay after graduation. And I’d like to see you have fun every once and a while, you know.”

There it was, the absolute punch in the gut Idia was dreading. “You see me having fun all the time, Ortho. We hang out every day.” It was a weak argument and he knew it.

“Yeah and I love hanging out with you, but that’s different! And I know other people would love hanging out with you, too! You’re the coolest person ever, big bro.”

And how could he ever say no to that?

“What’s the costume anyway?” Idia muttered, pulling his lower lip between sharp teeth.

“I’m not sure. They told me it was someone from a manga they really like! You should ask them about it!” Ortho was absolutely beaming. Something in Idia’s chest ached.

His response to your message was short and simple. He asked what your inspiration would be, and what prop you were looking for. Price could be negotiated, etcetera.

You responded with astounding speed; it made him nauseous. At least you were courteous, though. You gave him a lot of info to say the least- more than he needed considering he was a fan of the same series. Ortho had definitely known that, but that was a complaint for some other time. He had to admit it was a good choice- and the character you had in mind would suit you well (he’d never put that in writing so long as he lived). You sent him all of your inspo pictures- purely from the manga, you explained, as the anime adaptation had changed some of the details and you had a strong preference- as well as any measurements he might need. Idia couldn’t resist pointing out that the anime had made a number of phenomenal aesthetic choices, which did start somewhat of a tangent. Before he knew it, he was caught in a back and forth with you. It was… easy. Way easier than he had expected. When you stopped replying he was even a little disheartened; that is until he realized it was nearly 4 am. It had been that long of a conversation? Something about that made him warm all over. He’d ignore it for the moment.

When you messaged him back the following morning he felt the same rush of… something wash over him. And so a tentative back and forth between you two began. Draft sketches and material concepts on his end, and what felt like endless amounts of praise from you. That’s not to say you never brought any criticism to the table. You were just as fickle as he was, it seemed- and he liked arguing with you. Whether it was about the commission or over some unrelated tangent (which the two of you frequently succumbed to), there was something uniquely fun about debating your shared interests.

Over the week or so leading up to Halloween, your communication persisted outside of his prop updates. You even sent him photos of Grim! It was hard to stomach that he’d hit it off so well with some normie, but if you were sending him cat photos and had some (several) based media takes he’d tolerate that discomfort. Part of him kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, of course. The exchange was transactional- after Ortho delivered the prop to you, there would be no need to keep socializing with him. He couldn’t imagine why you’d want to anyway. Speaking of transactions, the two of you hadn’t decided on a price point. Or rather whenever you’d ask, he pushed the question aside by saying he ‘wasn’t sure yet’. He’d given you a relative range, but no exact number. He felt pathetic, but part of him didn’t even want to charge you for it. It wasn’t like he needed the money anyway, and Ortho had been right about the whole arrangement entertaining him. He couldn’t believe he was going so soft. But it wasn’t entirely his fault! Every time he’d start to work up the nerve to give a number, you’d do something so nice it made his head hurt. Sometimes it was asking questions about his games, or sending him voice messages so you could keep the conversation going when you couldn’t text. You’d even asked to vc once or twice! He’d denied that request, but nonetheless you asked! How was he supposed to follow that up? “Oh haha yeah, it’ll be like half your last paycheck sry lmao”? He’d rather die! He knew what his work was worth (and frankly so did you), but the idea of charging you that amount was a little nauseating. How fucking lame could he get?

And the other shoe did drop eventually, just not in the way he’d expected. It came as a lull in your late night banter, followed by ‘[name] is typing…’ for quite some time. That totally didn’t make him want to puke, no way. The message that followed was as short as it was sweet.

“Hey, so ik it’s not really your scene, but I’m having a Halloween thing at Ramshackle. Idk if I’d call it a party but yk it’s something. I was wondering if you’d want to stop by? If not that’s totally cool!”

Idia stared at that message for a while. Shit. Of course there was no way he’d go, not a chance, but he couldn’t just say that could he? He’d rather be dropped headlong into Tartarus than to go to some gathering of extroverts and npcs when he could be collecting his Halloween login rewards. At the same time, giving you a resounding ‘fuck no’ sounded just as unpleasant. So he just sat there and stared for a while before doing what he did best: he gave some vague, noncommittal answer.

“uhhh idk. I don’t wanna intrude haha. plus i have a raid planned so idk if i could make it sry”.

It seemed like you got what he was trying to say; Idia was beginning to resent just how well you listened to him.

“Totally get it! Just thought I’d ask :)! Send pics of ur costume tho! I wanna see it all put together :D!”

He tossed his phone aside, opting to throw himself face down in his pillow with a resounding groan. Why did you have to be so considerate? You had to have known he’d reject that request, so why even ask? And why did it mean so much to him that you had? His moping was interrupted by Ortho knocking at the door. Idia just grunted in response, turning his head to face him.

“What’s the matter bro?” Ortho hovered in the doorway, glowing eyes keenly focused on Idia’s sprawled figure. At times like this, only illuminated by blue screens and his own artificial fire, he had an uncanny effect that was hard to shake.

Idia peeked at him through his flickering bangs, huffing a little and sending the flames askew. He subsequently realized that they were streaked with a mortifying shade of pink, one that made him want to scream into the pillow all over again. “Nothing, I’m good. What’s up?” It was obviously a lie and he wasn’t helping his case by rolling over to face the wall.

“I wanted to see if you were up for a few pvp rounds before I set up to charge for the night. But what’s going on? My scanners detect no signs of physical injury, but your vitals indicate distress. Do you need medical attention?” Idia didn’t have to turn around to know his ‘brother’ had hovered closer.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid-,” he planted his face back into the pillow defeatedly. “It’s- [name] invited me to some stupid Halloween thing.” It was muffled, but that didn’t matter. There was no way Ortho wouldn’t hear him, so there was no need to sit up.

“They invited you to a party? That’s awesome! We could go together! I know, you could even give them the prop in person and see their costume completed!”

“I’m not going.”

“What? Why not? You’ve had so much fun talking to them and working on this commission! You should go see them!” Ortho was gearing up for another uphill battle, one Idia was once again going to resist him on.

“Because I don’t want to. You can go, I guess. I mean I’m sure you’re invited. That’s probably why they asked me, right? Because we’re a package deal? You’ll have more fun without me there to weigh you down. And anyway, I don’t wanna be around that many people. It’ll probably be total npc shit anyway.” He fell silent for a moment, the quiet whir of machine fans filling the air in his stead. Ortho didn’t try to interject.

“It’s not like- it’s not like they wanna see me anyway. Maybe my costume, I mean its S tier, but not me. And I can’t even get on a vc with them- I’d be seriously delusional if I thought I could hang out with them irl.”

“Hey, they totally want to see you. I mean, I’m sure they want to see your costume too. But I know they want to see you. If you don’t feel like going that's okay, but I don’t want you to miss out because you think their invitation wasn’t genuine.”

“Why? Like I know we get along fine over chat, and they’ve interacted with my tablet, but what if they see me irl and get all weirded out? ‘Oh, why is he blue all over? What’s with his teeth? Ewww’. I think I’ll pass.” He chewed at his sleeve, nervous over the mere prospect of facing you like that. “Even if they’ve seen me in passing like once, being up close is a whole other level.”

There was another long pause before Ortho spoke again. “They like your hair.”

“What?”

“They told me they like your hair. Like you said, they’ve seen you irl once or twice in passing. Should I play the recording for you?”

Idia felt a little conflicted about that. It felt a little invasive somehow. But a far less conflicted part of him (his massive ego) needed to hear it, and ultimately triumphed. “Yeah, fine. Go ahead.” He curbed his anxious enthusiasm by biting his sleeve even harder.

“Sure thing! Commencing playback.” There was the sudden background noise of hallway chatter, followed by your voice. “I think I saw your brother in the library yesterday. Well, I’m assuming it was him, he looked a lot like you. He’s got great hair, I’ve never seen anything like it. It must’ve taken forever to grow it out that long.”

There was a measured click as the clip came to a stop. “Recording ends. See? They don’t think you look weird. And there’s nothing else in my data logs to indicate that they would.”

“That’s… not exactly reassuring,” Idia muttered, watching as the mess of curls surrounding him flickered to life with the same rosy hues as before. Of course you wouldn’t tell Ortho that you thought he looked weird, that was his brother. But nevertheless, that was technically a compliment. A win was a win right?

“We should go, I think they’d love to see you there in person. We could even go super early to drop off the prop and leave before everyone else gets there,” Ortho chimed in, clearly trying to find some loophole in his brother’s anxiety. “And we can show off our costumes again.” There was another long pause.

“Fine. But just to drop it off.”

The remaining few days passed without incident, aside from Idia’s mounting anxieties (which he was sure would culminate in sudden death). Half dressed for the function, he sat on the edge of his bed and sent you photos of the final product. At the very least he was sure you’d like it- how could you not? He was a master craftsman after all. Your response came back at the typical lightning speed. He doubted he’d ever get used to that.

“Holy shit, it’s perfect??? Thank you so so much, I love it!! <3 did u sign it?”

“no lmao?? y?”

“Bc it’s your work??? And u should be proud of it and put ur name on it ??? Duh??? And bc I want you to ofc.”

Well that was certainly unexpected. He sat there for a minute and mulled it over- what could you possibly gain from him signing it? Did you really just want that, plain and simple? God you were fucking weird. It did feel kind of nice though. Nice enough for a smile to fight its way onto his face as he meandered back to his workstation. What was the harm in indulging that request?

“can do ig. i charge extra for autographs tho, soz. so ik ortho was gonna drop this off, but is it cool if i come? want to make sure it doesn’t need any adjustments etc yk”

Even though it took him a few (fifteen) minutes to type, it came out smoother than he’d expected. He’d consider it a win. Of course the piece didn’t need any adjusting, it was perfect and he knew it, but he had to justify his sudden appearance (mostly to himself).

“You can make it ??? Nice !!! Yeah ofc! Come over whenever :D !!! <3”

Hearts. Were you trying to kill him? And why did your texts read like the logs of a dating sim? Maybe he should lay off the otome games.

Getting fully into costume was a little more complicated than he’d anticipated. Combined with putting the finishing touches on Ortho’s matching specs and engraving an insignia onto your prop, there was no way the Shroud duo would arrive early. In fact, they’d be perfectly punctual (which Idia loathed). Halfway up the driveway to Ramshackle he started digging his heels into the dirt. Even from a distance he could see light streaming through the dingy windows, along with far too many figures crowded on the porch. Part of him wondered how many students such a dilapidated structure could support- he decided to drop that train of thought before he collapsed in your front yard. “Hey- maybe this is a bad idea. Even if they wanna see me-“

But it was too late. Cater was the first to spot the two, and immediately came down the stairs to greet them. Oh great, a boss level extrovert right off the bat? He had to get out of here!

“Hey hey! I didn’t expect to see you two here! Ooh, whatcha got there? And nice costumes! Did you make them yourself?” The redhead had a cup in one hand and his cellphone in the other, his head cocked as he observed the brothers.

Idia’s mouth just sort of stopped working, and the more questions Cater asked the more he wanted to dip out. Luckily Ortho was way better at navigating normie conversations.

“Hi Cater Diamond! [Name] invited us! And yes my brother made our costumes, aren’t they so cool? We’re kind of in a hurry though, we have the last piece of [Name]’s costume! Once we get it to them, we’ll have more time to talk.” He started to move past Cater, who was now more than ready to usher them through the throng of people in the foyer. Idia followed behind in amazement. Having Ortho around was such an op move.

“Oh nice! They should still be upstairs. Once they’re all set the three of you should come back down so I can snap your pics, ‘kay? You guys really went all out!” Cater slipped away easily before either brother could refuse his invitation. Well, Idia would just have to make sure the coast was clear when he decided to make his escape. The two made their way up the rickety staircase (seriously, how was this place still standing?) and onto the landing above. Your bedroom door was open so at the very least you were easy to locate. Before Idia would go any further he slipped on the pumpkin helmet, properly obscuring his face. That felt a little better- maybe he’d actually be able to look at you.

He lingered behind Ortho as if it would block him from your view (despite being much taller than the android model), knocking at the door frame twice. “Uh… hey. Can we come in?”

You looked up from your phone with a start, eyes widening as you took them in. “Idia? Wait, holy shit, you guys look sick.” You were fully in costume- had you been waiting for them? The way you said his name nearly made him keel over right then and there. “Like I knew they would be cool, but this is insane.” Your gaze flickered to the prop in his hands. “And that’s for me? Dude, it’s perfect. Seriously, thank you so much. I’m so glad you came.”

Idia didn’t process half of it, including you taking the prop from his grasp. You looked so good he felt lightheaded. Forget talking to you, now he was worried about remaining upright. “You- uh- yeah. You too,” he stammered weakly. You too? That didn’t make any sense! “I mean- I mean you look cool. And yeah this is for you.” Breathing in the helmet was a bit of a challenge and he couldn’t recall a time his throat had ever been drier. Ortho made no effort to intervene either- he was just watching, practically on standby mode as his brother made a fool of himself. Great. So much for his op cheat code.

He decided that looking anywhere but at you was his best option, his eyes scanning along the walls of your bedroom. It did look liveable, he’d give you that much. You even had a small shelf with a decently sized manga collection- considering how long you’d been there and the wages Monstro paid, he was kind of impressed. It was cute (you were cute). Your voice snapped him back out of his meditative scanning.

“Sorry there are so many people. I would’ve given you a heads up, but I had no idea it would be this crazy. People just started posting about it and,” you sighed. “So now like half the school is in my condemned house. Happy Halloween I guess? Deuce and Jack got a few of the other first years to preemptively agree to help with post party cleanup, so that’s nice.” You were still looking at him intently; Idia had to remind himself that you were checking out his costume and not him, of course. Unfortunately that didn’t stop the ends of his hair from flickering a dull but obvious pink. He knew it caught your attention, but you didn’t mention it. Instead you opted to change the subject entirely. By the Seven, how were you so good at this? “Anyway, I wanna hear all about your costumes. I got bits and pieces over messages but give me the rundown!”

Now that he could do.

Infodumping was an art form, and boy had Idia Shroud mastered it. From the materials he used to the classic inspo, he was more than happy to tell you all about his creations. It took him a little warming up, but he was quickly in full swing. Down to the sound effect rigging, he gave you a thorough explanation of his work. You seemed particularly delighted in how he and Ortho’s costumes were a matching pair, and of course that opened the floor for him to explain the intricacies of making new specs for his brother. In his excited haste, he’d even taken off the helmet to show you its interior. He didn’t notice for quite a while, nor did you make any mention of it. You just watched him, smiling and nodding attentively. By the time he picked up on just how greatly his range of vision had improved, it was far too late. With his peripheral unblocked he also realized that Ortho was gone. A wave of panic washed over him as he reassessed his surroundings. It was just the two of you, standing beyond the threshold of your bedroom, alone. How long had he been talking? And why were you looking at him with those big, starry eyes? He tried to tell you to stop staring, but no sound came out. Once again, Idia was convinced he was going to die.

You definitely caught onto his nervous demeanor- he wished you’d stop doing that. “Hey, so how much do I owe you?” You asked, your voice gentler than he’d realistically want it to be. Why were you being so nice to him? You had the prop already, so just kick him out! There was a whole party going on downstairs, yet here you were spending god only knows how long alone with him! Wasn’t that depressing?

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t a hard ask, and only noobs care about production costs,” he muttered, his tone not entirely unkind but thoroughly dismissive nonetheless.

“Oh- are you sure? Idia, it’s really beautifully done. Even if it wasn’t hard to do, you still took the time to do it. I owe you something.”

“I could make another one in my sleep. Just take it,” he was planning his escape, but could see no easy way out besides just turning tail and running. “Sorry for uh- well, for keeping you up here for so long. You’ve got a party to get to.”

“I’ll take it if you’re sure. Thank you, seriously. And don’t apologize, I like talking to you. I know this really isn’t your scene, so I really appreciate you coming out tonight.” The way you looked at him had him itching to put the helmet back on in record time. Your next words would foil even that half baked plan and freeze him in place. “If you wanted, maybe you could come over and hang out sometime? It’s not normally this crowded, it’s usually just Grim and I. You’re welcome here whenever, and so is Ortho.”

Every turn of phrase felt like you were whittling a hole in his brain, which made it increasingly difficult to think straight. What angle were you trying to work here? Was it just to embarrass him? He couldn’t think of a single thing you could gain from befriending him, which frankly made your kindness even more concerning. You had him one friendly gesture away from counting five things he could see, four things he could touch, and so on in the middle of the function. “I’m gonna go find Ortho,” he stated, abruptly turning on his heel. Now was not the time to go nonverbal, but that was steadily where he was headed. And he’d been doing so well! He’d talked to you irl, face to face! You hadn’t even seemed grossed out- if anything it felt like the opposite (which he would ignore). But of course his brain had to catch up and ruin everything. No, he had to ruin everything, just like always. This fucking sucked. The pumpkin helmet was back on, and he wasn’t showing his face until he was safely back at Ignihyde.

“Oh! Yeah, of course. I’ll walk down with you.” You wasted no time following after him, still holding your new prop. The trip down the main staircase was a silent one, but the raucous sounds of the party below more than made up for it. You didn’t push him to speak, which he was begrudgingly grateful for.

It was no surprise that your arrival from upstairs with Idia in tow drew a little attention. Cater even snapped a photo, saying something about how “cammable” you two looked (Idia didn’t have the strength to wonder where that photo would end up). You handled your entrance to the gathering like a pro, deflecting all the attention away from him with a small smile. He really couldn’t decide whether or not he hated how considerate you were, but that would be a viable train of thought once he was safely in his own bedroom. As he slipped away to find Ortho, he heard you discussing your costume with those gathered at the bottom of the stairs. Working up the nerve to risk a look back, he saw you proudly showing off the piece he’d made for you. The way you were so eager to credit him for it was debilitating.

Part of him wondered what would happen if he walked back over and joined the crowd. He knew he didn’t belong there, of course, but hypothetically. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining what it would be like to stand there by your side for just a little longer, to even let people photograph the two of you together. You hadn’t seemed to mind it a moment before. But maybe you were just being nice. You were always so nice. Regardless these were only hypotheticals, and he was bound to ruin your time if he stayed any longer. He’d be doing you a favor by leaving, right?

Right. With one last look at you, he resolved to find Ortho and get the hell out while he could, for your sake and his own.

Maybe next year, then.

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Tag list: @v-anrouge @vtoriacore @phoneymedic @gum-gum-time @heatofmyexoheart (dm to be removed or added! <3)

Soz for not posting for a while (and this late as hell Halloween fic eek!), I obliterated my ankle about a week ago and have just been taking time to recover (that is a lie I’ve had to go to work every day on it but I digress!!!)

Reblog if ANNUS

Ignore if STUPID

so be a good person

[Untitled, unsung] // Part 28

Crime and Punishment